


The Texting

by Jynxtaposition



Category: City of Heroes
Genre: Fish out of Water, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Necromancy, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9922802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jynxtaposition/pseuds/Jynxtaposition
Summary: I started this off a Tumblr prompt from http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/Since I deal with Necromancy in my City of Heroes stories I've tucked it here even if it's just a generic story. The necromancer is slightly based off my Hero character."Necromancers used to identify themselves to each other by wearing edgy graphic t-shirts along the lines of “I see dead people” and “normal people scare me”. But slowly their enemies have been infesting fashion with these t-shirts to confuse and break up the necromancers. You, a lover of hot topic, have been confused for a necromancer and are brought into their ranks."





	

It was your lucky shirt. Even dressing down in it at the bar, you still got a lot of attention. Sometimes by some really sketchy and downright smelly creeps, but still it was a bit of an ego booster. However you didn’t expect to get any attention for it while at the doctor’s office. Well maybe an odd look or two due to it’s macabre nature. But this time it was a doctor that had stopped you in the hallway. She didn’t say much to you, just looked you up and down before handing you her business card.

“Text me tonight and I can make arrangements to get you started.”

Nothing on the card indicated just what sort of doctor she was, or what she saw in you. Figuring she was a dietitian, you crumbled the card and stuck it in your pocket. Sure you may have crummy eating habits, but what else could you do? Handing over wads of money to a doctor wouldn’t help that.

You had just sat down to a steaming bowl of ramen the next day when your phone got a random looking text. “Our brief meeting at the hospital did not allow me explain. Please accept this as a formal invitation to study under me.” Yeah, that didn’t sound creepy at all. The number looked oddly familiar. You fished out the crumpled business card and found it matched. There was a little comfort that the text was from that strange doctor yesterday, but that still didn’t quite explain what she meant.  
Another text soon followed, “I have sent a car for you, should you care to join me for dinner to discuss matters further.” Looking down at your sad excuse for dinner you figured a decent meal was worth any risk. Besides, she was a doctor. Doctors are safe, right? You only briefly reflected on your life choices before grabbing your coat and headed downstairs.

Outside your apartment building there was a small amount of commotion around a limo that had pulled up. The driver was holding a sign up in front of his face. Your name was there, written in a beautiful calligraphy. “That’s me.” He acknowledged you with a nod and opened the door for you to enter. The interior was plush. Leather with velvet accents wasn’t what you expected. Not that you had been in a limo ever before in your life. The shadow of the driver waited patiently for you to stop touching everything and settle down into the seat before driving off. It was a rather boring ride, the driver refused to speak to you and even went so far as to black out the window separating him from you.

It wasn’t long before the limo pulled up to a grand estate. It was dusk, but still there were groundskeepers actively tending to the nearby shrubs. As you stepped out of the limo you were immediately greeted by an oddly familiar voice. The face you recognized as one of the creeps that had been plaguing you at the bar recently, only this time he was dressed in a sharp suit and a genuine smile was on his face. “This way,” he gestured with a bow. “The mistress is expecting you.”

Your face paled as you realized you were getting into some real deep shit here. There was no real escape either. You had been too distracted exploring the limos wet bar to notice where you had been taken to. With no other option you followed the bar-hopping butler through a number of doors and hallways before he stops at an oddly normal looking door. With a small show of flair he opens it.

“Madam. Your apprentice candidate has arrived.”

The words don’t really register as you look into the kitchen, finding the doctor busy with a needle and thread… re-attaching a bloodless finger to what looks like a preserved corpse wearing a chefs hat.


End file.
